


This Little Light of Mine

by angharabbit



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canada AU, F/M, Light BDSM, Modern AU, NSFW, Newfoundland, Overuse of bird references, Reylo - Freeform, Sea Monster Play, inappropriate use of Tetley, lighthouse smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2020-05-14 08:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19269178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angharabbit/pseuds/angharabbit
Summary: Rey is the faithful lighthouse keeper of a remote port in Newfoundland, Canada. Her peaceful, patient watch is disturbed when a strange man washes up on shore with only 3 things to his name: a map, a compass, and a very sharp knife.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not edited, and posted from a doctor’s office waiting room.

These sorts of things aren’t supposed to happen on late Tuesday mornings.

 

These sorts of things are _supposed_ to happen at midnight on Fridays, like a spy novel.

 

“The fuck...” Rey murmured to herself, raising her binoculars again to look out at the rocks below. There, between sheets of spray, was that a person?

 

It was a person.

 

He was wiping his face with gloved hands, crawling on his elbows up the large boulder she’d taken in her isolation to calling “Slanty McSlanterson”. It was also an ideal place, on a much calmer day, to drink a Thermos of tea, and paint.

 

Pursuing her lips, Rey glanced down at the radio on the shoulder of her safety vest. She should call this in. But at the same time, if he was a Canadian citizen there was no harm in him showing up on a Canadian island, especially public queensland. She’d give him a chance to explain, see if he needed medical attention, refuge. Computer said no ships in the vicinity.

 

Slinging the slightly dusty first aid messenger bag over her shoulder, she hit the circular stairs down to the base exit.

 

It didn’t matter that it was July in northern Newfoundland, it was cold anyway. The Atlantic damp went straight through to her Brighton-born Florida-raised bones. Pulling her standard issue black watch cap lower over her ears, she braced for the wind.

 

The man was waiting for her.

 

“Where am I,” he yelled, patting down his pockets. His longish black hair was a wild tangle, his lips turning blue. Rey was stunned a moment, his handsome face and wet all-black military-style clothes bringing forcefully to mind all the naughty sea monster and merman fantasies that entertained her on long, lonely nights.

 

“What’s your name?” she asked, radio near her mouth in warning. He was too close to her for comfort.

 

Poorly hid struggle twisted his lips.

 

“Ken,” he finally answered.

 

“Subtle,” she nodded. “Well, ‘Ken’, let’s check in with the coast guard, shall we?” 

 

“No,” he gasped, a lone arm shooting out and ripping the radio from her fingers. He threw it into the ocean, and grabbed her by her safety vest. Rey scratched at his hand, but he overpowered her, pressing her down on her back into rocks where the overhead sun blinded her.

 

“I don’t want to hurt you, but you cannot tell anyone I’m here,” he hissed. Pressing one palm down hard enough on her sternum that she couldn’t wiggle, could barely breathe, he checked her pockets.

 

“Where’s your phone?” he demanded.

 

“You think there’s service out here?” Rey wheezed. “It’s locked up in my cabin.”

 

“Is this Saint-Pierre or Miquelon?” he said roughly, stopping his search to pull a folded plastic map out from his water-logged pockets. She noticed that he was barefoot, his long toes scrunching on the cold rock.

 

“Sain-? Are you-? No! Let me up and I’ll tell you,” she gasped.

 

He released her, watching her movements closely while she unfolded the map.

 

“You’re here,” she said, pointing at the eastern coast of Newfoundland. “Ahch-To Island. I report in to Fogo every two hours and you just threw my goddamn radio in the sea, so I hope you’re prepared for company later.”

 

“Oh my God,” he said, sitting down hard. “I’m no where close to where I need to be.”

 

Rey glanced over at him, his distress, and ran for the lighthouse door as fast as she could over the treacherous slick rock.

 

He caught her on the stairs. 

 

The percussion on the narrow Victorian wrought iron spiral told her his progress faster than if she had looked back over her shoulder, the footsteps falling closer and closer and she flew for the locking door of the control room. She didn’t make it. One large hand snagged the back of her vest, and with terror, she fell backwards.

 

“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice quiet now that they were out of the wind, as if he were comforting and not abducting her. She found her face next to his in the claustrophobic closeness of the tower, water from his hair dripping into her face and jacket. 

 

Shifting her into a fireman’s carry, he took the rest of the stairs slower. Her bouncing, upside down view of the receding steps was nauseating, and Rey was grateful she hadn’t eaten her lunch yet.

 

“What’s your name,” he asked, the answer a piece of meaningless trivia to him.

 

“Kay,” she said sarcastically.

 

“No it’s not,” he responded.

 

“No, it’s not,  Ken,” she bit back.

 

She felt him slide a finger into the waistband of her work pants where a tag stuck out.

 

“Your underpants say ‘Rey Niima’,” he stated, sounding a little amused. “What are you, twelve and at summer camp?”

 

“There’s no running water here, the coast guard picks up our laundry once a month and drops off clean uniforms,” she explained, annoyance edging up beyond her fear. “What’s your plan here,  Ken.”

 

“Tie you up, steal a boat, be out of your hair in an hour.”

 

“I don’t have a boat,” Rey lied. Technically it wasn’t her boat, it was the Canadian government’s.

 

“So if you saw a boat in distress in the water I’m supposed to believe that all you’d do is radio for help and then just wait around and watch?”

 

“Yup,” she said, clenching her teeth. He shifted her as they neared the top, and she saw a black hunting knife sticking out of his back pocket. The hilt was wrapped with red wire for grip, and it was just out of reach.

 

“I’m slipping,” Rey yelled, trying to reach as she flailed. He stopped on the last stair, grunting as her knee got him in the ribs.

 

“You’re fine, I’ve got you,” he said crisply. She could hear his frown. It didn’t matter, she had the knife. Trying not to cut her own wrist, she pushed it up past the tight knitted cuff of her jacket.

 

“You probably have hypothermia. If you let me go I can show you where the rescue gear is.”

 

“I didn’t realize it would be hard to find in this one room,” he scoffed, letting them into the control room. One cabinet was clearly labelled safety equipment in both French and English.

 

“So you’re American,” she commented fake-casually from her perch slung his shoulder, not knowing what he intended with her next.

 

“No comment,” he said, accent obvious.

 

“Is this a tiny invasion of Canada’s sovereignty? Just one lost guy with a map? Even 1812 was planned better than this.”

 

“I’m not lost now, am I,” he said, distracted as he reviewed his options. “I’m on Ahch-To Island with Rey Niima and her labelled underpants.”

 

Settling on a length of nylon rope, he tied Rey to the console’s lean bar.

 

“So you’re what, navy or something?” she asked, watching him create knots that would make Houdini nervous.

 

“No.” 

 

“Oh.”

 

“Something private?”

 

He didn’t answer.

 

“I’m thinking smaller. I’m thinking more guns,” she assessed, looking him over again. A hint of a tattoo was visible under his black shirt collar.

 

“When is your next radio check in,” he demanded, started to search the charts and graphs on the wall for information. “Noon. Five minutes ago. What’s procedure when you don’t check in.”

 

Rey didn’t tell him that she could email in the loss of the radio from the desktop computer. The internet was slow, but functioned.

 

Just blinking at him, Rey decided this is where her cooperation, such as it had been, ended.

 

He raised an eyebrow.

 

“So quiet all the sudden?” He cracked open her Thermos and sniffed the tea inside. “What kind?”

 

She shrugged.

 

He drank, first a sip and then with the thirst of a man who had been swimming for potentially hours in near-deadly ocean currents, then ran a woman up a flight of stairs.

 

“Tetley,” he decided, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Too much sugar, not enough cream.”

 

“Cream is a bit of a luxury when you only get supplies once a month.”

 

No need to tell him about her strategic reserve of canned condensed milk.

 

“Lighthouse keeper at Ahch-To Island this is Fogo Tower, do you copy? Lighthouse keeper at Ahch-To Island you have missed your noon check in. Please respond.”

 

The voice over the console radio speaker broke up suddenly into static. Rey furrowed her brows at the new voice, sinister and sneering.

 

“Could you be more conspicuous, Ren? Must have been a hell of a swim from where we dumped you. See you soon.”

 

“So that wasn’t Fogo Island Tower, that second part,” Rey said sharply, “was it,  Ken.”

 

“No,” he said, the slight tremor of hypothermia turning into a full body shake. “No, that was Hux.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rey makes a discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy my nautical nonsense

“Do you always pick fake names that rhyme with your real name, Ken-Ren, man from the sea?” she mocked nervously, trying to think of a way to get him out of the room, and babbling instead. “Oh, it’s going to be that sort of party.”

 

A very naked man stood before her, his clothes a wet pile on the ancient orange linoleum. 

 

“No party when Hux arrives,” he stated, pulling a small microfibre towel out of the cabinet and ruthlessly scrubbing himself dry. “He’ll push you down those stairs then burn the lighthouse down to cover his tracks because you talked to me.”

 

Rey sat in silent horror a moment, contemplating all the ways this day already was the worst. 

 

She’d been over scooping her oatmeal by accident and had run out two days early before delivery, forcing her to eat gross old cereal that morning for breakfast. A puffin had shat on the weather station, so she’d had to clean that up before doing her routine checks. She’d missed a birth control pill, and had been walking off cramps most of the morning, doing a head count on the island’s Spruce Grouse population, and she’d dropped half her wild blueberries.

 

“Great, Ren. Great. Thanks for making me a part of this,” she blasted, fed up. “You and you special ops buddies can go fu-“

 

“They’re not my friends,” he said hotly, wringing out his black briefs with no embarrassment. The man was attractive enough, but Rey was in no mood to tolerate a real life unsolicited dick pic.

 

“Sorry, comrades is it? Maybe this is more of a ‘The Russians Are Coming! The Russians Are Coming!’ situation then?“

 

“I don’t know the reference.”

 

“What a surprise. Could you please put something on?”

 

“These’ll do,” he said, pulling a full yellow rain slicker pants and jacket over his naked body. He threw his wet clothes over the lean rail where they dripped onto Rey’s pants.

 

“Not going to wear the hat? You could do News From Away, with Jimmy and Seamus O’Toole.”

 

“I don’t speak Canadian,” he dismissed, turning back to the wall map of the island.

 

“Last guy here left all twenty-four seasons of Royal Canadian Air Farce on the cabin hard drive,” she prattled, distracting him from the terrain. “All seven of Road to Avonlea too. Just three of Little Mosque on the Prairie, I’ll have to put that on my download list. It takes weeks to download tv shows.”

 

“Rey, with all due respect, please shut up,” Ren said, focusing on a bit of terrain on the north end of the island. “What’s here? A cave?”

 

Tempted as she was to play the teenager and indicate that she was shutting up, the truth was too good.

 

“It’s hot chocolate.”

 

“What? No.”

 

Ren licked his thumb and rubbed the map. The cave dissolved and disappeared.

 

“How long has that been there?”

 

“Weeks.”

 

“If you knew about it and why didn’t you clean it?”

 

“I was pretending a brown blob had fallen from the sky on the island and the map had changed itself to reflect the addition.”

 

“Are there any places on this island where we could hide that are not made of your breakfast,” he asked, frustration growing.

 

“In my closet?”

 

“Pretty sure Hux’ team will think to look in your closet.”

 

“It’s a walk in,” she taunted enticingly, already certain they were both fucked.

 

“No natural features?”

 

“Ren, if you looked through those binoculars out this nice three-sixty window, there isn’t a place on this island you couldn’t see me flip you off except my bedroom closet.”

 

“Fuck!” he shouted, throwing the Thermos across the room. It cracked, the last drops of tea spraying Rey’s back up wellies.

 

“Why are you even here?” Rey yelled at him. “Why did you slither out of the sea onto my peaceful little paradise and bring all this shit with you?”

 

“Because I was aiming for the other side of the goddamn province, that’s why,” he yelled back. “Think it was my goal to maroon myself with some tiny lighthouse woman?”

 

“Ya really fucked the puffin on this one, Ren,” she breathed angrily.

 

He snorted, like she’d made a private joke.

 

“How far to the mainland?”

 

“Nine k or so to Musgrave Harbour?”

 

Ren licked the tip of his index finger and rubbed a spot on the map.

 

“That’s strange,” he said darkly, “the dot marked Emergency Boat Launch doesn’t seem to be made of chocolate.”

 

In that moment, with the expression of anger on his face, Rey truly didn’t know if he intended harm against her. 

 

“How about I check whether you were lying about that boat, hm?”

 

“What if this guy, Hux, what if he comes while you’re gone?” she asked, not needing much effort to sound scared.

 

“Then this is goodbye, Captain Underpants,” he dismissed, the rattle of the stairs announcing his descent.

 

“Bastard,” she whispered, guessing with his long legs he could be back from the boat launch within ten minutes. She’d need to be fast.

 

Working the knife back out of her sleeve with only minimal blood, Rey sawed at the nylon binding her hands with the jagged metal blade. It was tough, the hunting barbs catching the enmeshed fibres in both directions but only cutting on one.

 

“I can do this,” she said to encourage herself. “I didn’t come to the middle of nowhere just to get murdered. If I had wanted to be murdered I’d have just stayed in Florida.”

 

The rope gave way, unravelling around her wrists and the lean rail. She blew out a breath and hacked at the section binding her legs.

 

The flip side to being able to see everything from her lighthouse window was that Ren could likely see her in return, if she stood. It would be nice to know where he was, but she couldn’t chance it.

 

She seized the radio and sent a numbered cry for help, wondering whether this Hux had a listing of the Canadian Coast Guard’s codes.

 

Static.

 

“No one’s coming. See you soon,” came Hux’ brisk voice again.

 

Rey bolted for the stairs.

 

If Ren was who they wanted, maybe they’d give up once they found him. She knew of several places small enough to hide her compact body uncomfortably for several hours if needed. Screw the big man, she though, running low to the ground along wind-stripped scrub, he could hide in her closet.

 

She thought of the zippered binder she kept in her closet. Well, hopefully he wouldn’t snoop.

 

XXX

 

Finding his knife gone, his hostage escaped, and his blood sugar tanking, Kylo was surely either murdered by Hux by now, or hunting her. She wouldn’t know which unless she left the small, dark crevice she’d stashed herself in along the rugged coast. It was damp, salty. A storm was brewing, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to last until help came, if help came. 

 

She entertained herself puzzling over how Ren had made it to the island at all. Hux had said he’d been dumped, and implied it was some distance from the island, off her radars. Could anyone survive swimming long in the wild Atlantic open ocean? Could he have had a raft he’d lost and just been lucky swimming the last leg? 

 

Maybe he’s a mermaid, the voice in her head that stayed up too late reading offered unhelpfully. Or some sort of half human sea monster like an octopus or a squid. Maybe he was a selkie, like the old stories. Her mind drifted unhurriedly back to the sight of his naked body. He didn’t have any visible telltales of magic that she could remember, just a few scars.

 

True dark fell fast on the island, broken only by the sweeping light from the lighthouse. It should have gone on automatically, but tonight it didn’t. Ren must have broken or dismantled it. She should have seen the friendly beam stroke the water by now.

 

The waves she could hear, though, being turned up faster and stronger by increasing winds. A rumble of thunder. It would be deadly for any boats approaching or trying to safely pass the island, especially in a storm.

 

She had a job to do, she had to get the lamp on, even if it was a beacon for Hux. Rey could do this.

 

Trusting her knowledge of the island, she also had to get to shelter in the unforgiving dark. Certainly Ren wouldn’t be creeping about in strange territory like this, disorientated.

 

Odds were he would be sheltering in the lighthouse, where he had the high ground for viewing her or Hux approaching. She’d start at her cabin, and try to warm up, drink and eat, and kit herself out to assault the tower. A day like this may even warrant a smidge of a treat in her tea.

 

Her cabin was warm, dry. The thick Victorian logs dulled the unforgiving winds. Leaving the lights off, she crept through the main room to her bedroom. It was so strange, not seeing the powerful rotating lights illuminate the small space through the windows.

 

As far as she could tell, Ren hadn’t been there. Or if he’d had, he hadn’t left a visible trace. She’d anticipated overturned furniture, broken dishes, spaghetti sauce on the ceiling. The closet was the only hiding place. She fished her slender metal flashlight out of her vest pocket, and carefully hiding the beam from the main room, lit up the closet.

 

There at the very very back, fortified by tote bins, surrounded by empty condensed milk tins and pages from her secret binder, in a nest made of her coiled housecoat, slept a puffin.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please note the updated tags

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy this hastily written nautical trash

Rey stood frozen a moment.

The fuck.

A puffin? In her closet?

Biting her lip in concentration, she knelt down, and gently placed the flashlight on the floor with a soft click. Illuminated by the beam, the puffin slept on. 

Rey knew she wouldn’t have much time for the next part.

She pounced, pulling her housecoat up over the bird’s head, gently pinning its wings to its shiny black body. It gave an inelegant squawk, flailing hard to be free. Rey tucked through bundle against her like a football and made her way carefully in the dark to the bedroom door. With luck, she’d have the adorable sea bird safety outside before it could think to use its feet or bill against her.

That didn’t happen.

Rey found herself instead flattened to the floor, cheek smushed against the ancient carpet, as the weight in her arms expanded and grew with a pop and a dark cloud of feathers. 

Her arms were wrapped around a very large, very heavy man.

Feathers drifted down into her hair, the stolen knife dangerously pressed against her thigh. She was entwined with her enemy, the flashlight blinding him.

“Ren,” she gasped, pushing away from him quickly and pulling the knife both for comfort and for threatening. “The hell was that? You were a bird? How is this possible?”

He raised his hands in peace, blinking in the darkness as he stood and pointed the flashlight at the floor so they could make each other out.

“It’s actually Ben.”

Rey lowered the knife, looking deeply unimpressed.

“Ben?”

She shook her head, returning to the point.

“I promise you, they don’t have to rh- NO. You. We’re. A. Bird.”

“Yes, yes, I was a bird,” he admitted. “I needed to sleep and it seemed like a safe place.”

“YOU WERE A BIRD,” Rey screamed at him. “EXPLAIN YOURSELF.”

“I have a magic knife. That magic knife, actually,” he said quickly, pointing at the blade aimed at his face, “which I’d like back. It’s been passed down, the owner draws blood and the knife grants them the power of flight. Usually eagles, hawks, great owls, that sort of thing. Once an albatross.”

“You’re saying I cut myself with this knife and I’ll turn into a pidgeon,” Rey taunted, dripping disdain. His voice grew harsh.

“You can save the attitude, you just watched me transform so you know it’s real. And no, it only works for me, and my non-existent children and mate. So I’ll have it back now, please. The closer the knife, the more powerful the bird, which is why I just spent the last few hours as a goddamn puffin.”

“You made an awful mess in there,” she assessed, looking for something mundane to distract her from the absurdity she was absorbing. “Is that my condensed milk?”

She rose up like a snake, pink with rage.

Ben’s unrepentantly licked the corner of his lips like he was tasting the last drop.

“I needed something to quench my thirst after having nothing but a binder full of the most appallingly written pornography known to man to read.”

“Left you thirsty, did it?” Rey spat, the heat in her cheeks embarrassment now as well as anger.

“You have a real monster fetish, don’t you, lonely lighthouse girl,” he said darkly, his eyes shadowed. “Hoping a sea monster with thick, weeping tentacles crawls up the rocks one night looking for love?”

Rey was silent, her body flushed thinking about this great beast of a man reading her dirty little bedtime stories.

He took a step closer.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever thought of a way to make a bird man sexy,” she snarked, tightening her grip on the smooth ebony and birch hilt.

“Please, Papagena, I’m sure you’ve got a bird man story in there somewhere.”

“What I read is none of your business! You attacked me, tied me up-“

“Which according to your binder is something you might have just enjoyed a little too much-“

“How dare you!”

“Want me to tie you up again,” he said softly, his demeanour shifting from defensive to another kind of tense. “We’ve got some time before Hux’s men come and kill us. I could at least help you fulfil a few of those monster fantasies before we fight for our lives.”

Furrowing her brows, Rey did a self assessment.

She was scared, but not of him. 

He could have used his size to take the knife from her by now, his speed to run from the cottage and take to the skies hoping to avoid his enemies and their scopes and guns. He could have left her to her fate.

“You’re proposing that we drop everything that’s happened and just go do sex right now,” she said bluntly.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, lets go do sex, infuriating lighthouse woman. Do you have anything else to do?”

“Why… are you interested in me?”

Ben scoffed, folding his arms over his chest.

“I just spent hours reading obscene monster porn in your bedroom, and I like the way you fucked me over back there at the lighthouse. So what do you say, interested in letting me take off those labelled underpants while you’re tied to the headboard, or should I go back to Plan A and sad wank into the sea?”

There was a beat of heavy silence.

“Rope’s in the blue shed just outside the front door,” she whispered.

“Give me a safe word before we start to play monster,” he said softly.

“Puffin.”

She thought she saw the flash of a wicked grin as he switched the flashlight off and left.

Rey’s body was on fire.

A hand was to her throat before she realized he’d returned, the grip gentle as it drew her back into his chest. She stepped on his bare feet in the darkness, realizing why he’d crept so easily. Stroking the sides of her neck with the wide span of his fingers and thumb, he whispered a litany of acts he’d read in her stories like a menu and read her body’s reactions for her order.

“How are you so good at this,” Rey demanded, soaked without so much as a kiss.

“I read it in your binder,” he murmured against her nape, letting his thickly muscled arms wrap around her. Cephalopod-like grip pulled at her clothes, dragged at her nipples, as he slowly moved his hands all over her. His fingers drove deeply against any crevice, rough to the point of almost pain as they explored against her jaw, under her breasts, her labia, her ass, dishevelling her hair. A wet mouth sucked the skin of her throat, and she cried out, arching into it.

Ben growled, pulling at the coast guard uniform’s heavy fabrics until he’d worked the fasteners free. Rey was naked in moments, pulled this way and that as he wasted no time being gentle, then dragged back into his arms so the burning skin of her shoulder met his  bare chest.

“When did you have time to-“ she gasped, his erect cock shoved against her spine as one hand cupped her breast hard to keep her in place, and the other plunged between her thighs. 

“Don’t question your monster, it doesn’t understand such things,” he said simply, shoving a pair of fingers past her slippery labia and into her molten core. He twisted them around once, gathering fluid, then slid them out, slid them down her neck and shoulder, slid the viscous trail down one breast. 

“Are you okay,” he asked softly into her hair, listening to her pant.

“Yes,” she hissed, closing her eyes.

The touch of cold, smooth nylon rope made them fly open, though she was still in the darkness of the cottage bedroom and saw nothing, heard nothing but the crash of waves outside and the slither of rope on rope. The heavy gauge cord was as thick as her arm, meant for boats, but it was fed down her shoulder, between her breasts, between her thighs, up and around one leg to press under an ass cheek, and then looped once around her waist. Drowning in the smell of sea salt, Ben bent her forward and bound her hands to the footboard with a thinner rope, softer and more flexible, the knots pliable if she’d wanted to break them.

Ass in the cold air, she rested her forehead on the wooden rail and concentrated on breathing. 

“Am I your sea monster now, lighthouse keeper?” he said from behind her. She couldn’t turn to see, but waited for his touch.

A sharp tug at the thick rope, and she was straining upright, feel the bite of the cords wrapped around her. A rough hand found her ass, and dragged her backwards until her feet were nearly off the ground. Rey kept a white-knuckle grip on the bed rail as she felt a gentle press at her entrance from a large, blunt object. It made a warm, wet trail around her vaginal entrance before Ben plunged his cock all the way in.

Shrieking, Rey writhed in Ben’s arms while he clapped a hand over her mouth. He released her the moment she stopped.

“Is there anything you need to say,” he prompted breathlessly, grasping hard at her hip with both hands to drag her up and impale her once again.

Rey moaned loudly, the rope between her legs sliding against her ass as he pressed tightly against her.

“Harder,” she demanded, hanging her head and bracing her shoulders.

Ben spread her legs wide around his hips, her feet dangling, the grip of his hands around her thighs bruising as he drove in again and again. The slap of wet skin filled the room as Rey dripped her arousal down Ben’s hands.

He pushed the ample lubricant back to her clitoris, finger fulls easing their progress around the swollen organ.

Ben brought her ass higher still, feeling like he was fucking all the way through her, each thrust now met with a guttural groan. 

Rey was close, and Ben was in agony trying to get her there first.

Holding nothing back, Rey pushed back against each savage thrust, taking him as deep as she could, clenching around him as his fingers tortured an explosive orgasm. She shook, her muscles locking as she wailed and swore, gushing fluids, pulling at her restraints in the darkness. Ben fucked her through them, unrelenting until he was filling her with spend, feeling it mix with hers as it trickled onto the floor.

“Fuck,” he breathed, sweat trickling down the crevice of muscle that ran down his back. One hip burned from where it had been rubbing against the rope.

Letting her feet rest at ground level, he kept her bent over. Ben took a palm-full of their sticky combination, and smeared it down Rey’s cheek, pressing two fingers into her mouth. She sucked then in deep, her tongue sliding between them.

Shudders wracked Rey’s body, small spurts of their spend soaking down her trembling legs.

Carefully untying her, Ben wrapped her in the warm top blanket and finally took her into his arms face to face.

“How would you rate your monster ravage? Sufficient?”

“Five stars,” she sighed, resting her forehead against hard pectorals. “Ten out of ten, would be ravaged by strange sea monster with bad fake names again.”

“I suppose technically I’m a bird monster.”

“Sure, Howl.”

“More Pisthetaerus than Howl, surely.”

“No, definitely Howl.”

He made a noise of dissent.

“We could go back to Papageno,” she warned in a teasing voice, smoothing a hand along the planes of him she hadn’t been allowed to touch.

“Please,” he said haughtily, “I’ve been the deadly hooded pitohuis, the murderous cassowaries.”

“You’ve also been a puffin.”

“I’ve also been a puffin,” he admitted, resting his head on top of hers.

“What’s the second most embarrassing bird you’ve been?”

“Nine foot tall ostrich. Oh, where’s my knife?”

Rey bent down and fished it out from just under the bed with careful fingers.

“You’ve got your muscles and there’s the fire axe, at least let me keep the knife to defend myself,” she said, holding it out of his reach.

“My muscles are made of jellyfish right now, and I’d be more comfortable if I had it, you never know what could happen.”

Rey closed her hand around it quicky, a fine line of blood swelling to the surface on one finger that had been too close to the blade..

“Please,” she scoffed, “nothings going to happen if I carry it, look-“ 

There was a rush of blood to her head, a wave of dizziness. Then a pop.

And Rey looked way way up at him with her disorientingly rifted vision, and squawked. 

 


End file.
